Homecoming
by alphayamergo
Summary: Five years after Sara Lance got on the Queen's Gambit, she and Oliver finally return home to Starling City. There's a city to protect and relationships to repair, and coming home is never simple. Or: Pilot, had Oliver and Sara not been separated on the Amazo.


Sara's heart was hammering in her chest as Oliver pulled the bowstring taut and then released the arrow. Below them, the beacon caught light, flames building into a bonfire in seconds. Sara pulled her gaze away to the ship: she couldn't see movement from the distance, but she could imagine it.

"We're going home, Ollie," she whispered, voice cracking. Oliver's arms caught around her waist, and she leaned into the embrace, burying her face in his shoulder. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, vision suddenly blurry. Oliver's arms tightened.

"Home," echoed Oliver, his voice filled with wonder. "God, Thea's got to be – she'd almost be grown."

"Laurel will be a lawyer by now," said Sara, pulling away so that she could look at Oliver properly. Her voice cracked as she spoke. Laurel had to be the scariest part of going home. Sara missed her sister desperately; kept the cracked, faded photo of Laurel in her pocket at all times. But Sara had no idea if Laurel missed her in return, and couldn't even blame her if she didn't, not after how Sara had disappeared.

She pushed the thoughts of her sister aside. Oliver was prone to guilt and self-loathing whenever he was reminded of just how they had ended up on the island together, and this was a time for celebration. She pulled herself out of Oliver's hug, taking his hand so she could tug him towards the beach. This would be her last walk through this forest, but she couldn't bring herself to take it in. Her thoughts were already ahead, in Starling City and everyone they had left behind. "Do you think Tommy's settled down without your bad influence?" she teased, keeping her voice light.

Oliver huffed out a laugh. "I think you'll find that _Tommy_ was the bad influence," he said, voice prim and utterly unconvincing.

"You forget: I know you," said Sara. Oliver swung an arm around her shoulders, and when she looked up, he was smiling in a way that she had rarely seen since the Gambit went down.

"That, you do," said Oliver. Sara snaked her arm around him and squeezed. They were almost home.

* * *

First, though, there was the hospital.

Sara and Oliver had already had initial health checks in China before they had been flown back to the USA, but they were now up for a more thorough examination before they were allowed to see their families. They were being ushered through by doctors, life swirling around them.

It didn't feel real. Somewhere along the line, Lian Yu had become her reality, and Starling City had become the dream. Oliver's hand was warm and real in hers, though, as it had been for years.

"This way, Miss Lance," said a nurse. Sara tightened her grip on Oliver's hand, casting a panicked look towards him before she even realised it. Oliver tensed and pulled her closer.

It was ridiculous, really. Sara knew, logically, that she and Oliver were going to be separated sooner or later. And it wasn't even like they had spent every moment of the past five years together, anyway: there was her time on the Amazo, obviously, and when they'd been forced apart by ARGUS, or circumstances, or any number of things. But –

Sara met Oliver's eyes. This was going to happen eventually, she knew. "I can do it if you can," she whispered. Slowly, he nodded, letting go of her hand. She kissed his cheek, whispered " _I love you_ ", and allowed herself to be whisked away by the nurse.

There were X-Rays and check-ups and more as she waited patiently for the doctors to finish her examination. Sara knew she was fine. A little banged up, sure, but they weren't going to find anything in urgent need of hospitalisation. She just needed to be patient, and they would let her see family.

Finally, the door behind her opened. She tried not to tense too obviously, swinging around to face the newcomer.

"Sara?" said her father, Dinah hovering just behind him. Sara stood up, taking a step forward. She had dreamed of this moment, had treasured those dreams in her darkest moments. But now that she was here, she had no idea what she was supposed to do. She suddenly longed for Oliver: every challenge and every fear she had faced in the past four years had been at his side.

Sara took another step forward, and her parents met her there. Quentin reached her first, wrapping her in a hug. Dinah quickly joined the hug. "I've missed you," whispered Sara, head against her father's shoulder, ensconced between two embraces.

"I knew you were alive," said Dinah, kissing Sara's hair. "I could feel it." Sara felt her father's shoulder shaking, realising abruptly that Quentin was crying.

"I'm sorry I - " Sara broke off, because she couldn't honestly say that she was. She wished neither she nor Oliver got on that boat, wished that it had never had gone down, but she couldn't say that she regretted going with Oliver. Not when the alternative had been Oliver alone on that island. God knows what might have happened to him without Sara.

"It's okay," Dinah reassured her, Quentin nodding in agreement. Sara thought that they had probably misunderstood her, thought that she couldn't go on rather than wouldn't. She didn't rush to correct them.

"Where's Laurel?" she asked instead, almost afraid of the answer.

"She – she couldn't get the time off work, sweetheart," said her father, faltering. "She'll meet us at home." Sara wondered how hard Laurel had tried to get the time off, but decided that she really didn't want to know the answer to the question.

"You're free to go," said Dinah. "Shall we get out of here?" She glanced around the room distastefully – she never had liked hospitals. Sara didn't bother to hide her smile. At least some things never changed.

* * *

"Oliver Queen is alive," said the newsreader, emphatically. "The millionaire and tabloid favourite has been found alive - " Laurel rose from her desk, snatched the remote and turned the television off to merciful silence.

"Laurel?" said Joanna. She was peering at Laurel from her desk, eyebrows furrowed. "What are you still doing here?"

"I couldn't leave yet. There's so much paperwork to do," said Laurel, the excuse sounding terrible even to her own ears. Joanna narrowed her eyes.

"No other reason," said Joanna, looking very doubtful. Laurel opened her mouth to explain, but no sound came out. She didn't know how to say that she had cried when she had found out that Sara was alive, how her heart had felt so big it could burst when her father had called, crying. She didn't know how to say that she had missed her sister so, _so_ much but was terrified that when they came face to face, the anger might win out over the happiness and relief.

She wanted to be happy when she saw her sister again, and she had needed a little more time to sort out all her tangled emotions.

"I'll go," conceded Laurel. Joanna stood to hug Laurel as she went.

"I know it must be tough," said Joanna, squeezing Laurel's shoulders. "But at least you've got a chance to fix it, now."

Her father's home was still empty when she arrived, so she set herself up at the kitchen table and started to work through some of the paper work she had brought with her. It was another half hour before Laurel heard the door unlock. She was still clearing away her paperwork when they entered.

"Laurel!" said Quentin. Dinah entered behind him, arm wrapped around Sara's shoulders. "I thought you'd still be at CRNI."

Laurel put her hands in her pockets and shrugged. "I couldn't focus so they sent me home," she said, unable to take her eyes off Sara. She had been worried that Laurel wouldn't be able to hold back the anger, but now seeing Sara…

Laurel pushed her way past her father and threw her arms around her sister. "God, I missed you," she whispered, feeling tears prick at her eyes.

Sara's arms hesitantly wrapped around Laurel, then grew in strength as Laurel continued to hold on. "I'm so sorry, Laurel."

Laurel shook her head, blinking away the tears. "I don't want to talk about that now. I just want to be happy that you're home."

"Okay," said Sara, voice thick. Laurel closed her eyes and held her sister for a few more moments before she pulled back from the hug.

"I wasn't sure what the hospital would give you, so I brought you some clothes," Laurel offered. Sara smiled at her, slow and hesitant. Laurel tugged at Sara's hand. "Come on, I'll show you."

* * *

The bed was too soft.

Sara wondered if Oliver was having the same problem in the mansion. She rolled over, trying to find a way to be comfortable on the bed. It felt like a cloud, and definitely not in a good way. On top of that, the room was too still, too quiet.

She sighed and sat up, pulled the sheets off the bed and on to the floor. Sara pushed her window open. It was raining, and she stuck her hands out into the rain.

Everything felt off. It was too crowded, too closed off. She dragged her now-wet hands through her hair and went to lie back down.

"What's wrong with the bed?" asked Quentin, now standing in the doorway.

"Too soft," she said. "I've spent years sleeping on the forest floor."

Quentin came to sit next to her. "How are you, Sara? Really?"

"I'm okay," said Sara, largely because she wasn't sure what else she could say. She doubted she'd fall under 'okay' by most people's standards, but compared to what she'd been dealing with for the past five years? She was better than okay.

She didn't think her father would understand if she tried to explain further. She and Oliver had been through hell together. Sara had done things to survive that could never speak of to her father: hurt people, _killed_ people. And now that she was back, she was planning on doing something he would never approve of. " _You don't need to go outside the law to get justice_ ," he'd always said, when talking about his job or Laurel's lawyer ambitions. Sara thought of Oliver's book, and knew that you did.

Quentin looked doubtful, but didn't push her. "Thank God you're home," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and dropping a kiss on her forehead. He pushed himself back on to his feet, leaving her to attempt sleep again.

The wind was sweeping through her room, and the floor was closer to what she was used to. But she still couldn't sleep. Oliver's absence was nearly tangible. This was an issue that she hadn't thought to consider, and she couldn't even contact him. Oliver's family had probably managed to get him a phone, but Sara didn't have one yet. She wouldn't know his number even if she did.

She exhaled, burrowing into the sheets and staring out at the rain. She was going to have to find a way to get in touch with Oliver soon.

* * *

"Laurel's been working in the CRNI for a few years," said Tommy, pulling up outside. "Please don't – I don't know – die."

"Laurel's not going to murder me," said Oliver, amused. Tommy looked doubtful. Oliver gave him a reassuring smile and stepped out of the car.

No one seemed to know how to interact with him, now. They couldn't decide whether they should treat him like he was made of glass or like he was still the same kid who got on the Gambit. Tommy, at least, seemed to have made the decision to act _normal_ : to make jokes and act the clown. It was an easy pattern to fall back into, but also exhausting.

Laurel was packing her things up and didn't look up until he had arrived at her desk. She narrowed her eyes at him, setting her jaw. "What do you want, Oliver?"

"I wanted to apologise," he said, raising his hands to show he meant no harm.

Laurel pursed her lips. "Come on, outside," she said, shouldering her bag. "I'm leaving anyway."

"Seems a little early," he commented, following her out.

Laurel gave him a look. "I've got a half day what with Sara coming home, but you didn't come for small talk," she said.

"I'm sorry, Laurel," he said. "I was – I was a dick."

"You can say that again," muttered Laurel.

"I don't expect forgiveness, but I also wanted you to ask you not to blame her," said Oliver. "It was my fault. I took advantage."

Laurel was silent for a long moment. "I was scared to go home yesterday, because I thought that maybe I'd look at Sara and just feel all the anger. I couldn't be angry at her, you know, because she was dead. I tried not to let myself feel any of it, because you were both dead, and you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead." She took a breath. Oliver looked to the ground, not sure where Laurel was going with her story, but praying that Sara's homecoming had been good.

"The first thing Sara said to me was an apology, and I realised that I was happy to see her," continued Laurel. "So, no, Oliver, I don't blame her. There. You've fulfilled your obligation. Now you can leave me in peace."

"Laurel," said Oliver, not certain what to say next. It was too late, however, and she was already marching away.

* * *

Quentin put down his phone with a groan. "I've got to go," he said to the room at large. "Got a call from the Queen mansion."

"What happened?" asked Sara. She pushed herself up from where she had been lying on the couch. Her shoulders were tense. Laurel frowned and went to sit by her sister. Laurel might not be happy with Oliver Queen, or particularly like reminders of her sister's relationship with him, but it was hard to ignore the worry in her sister's eyes.

"Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn were kidnapped," said Quentin. "He's okay, Sara," he added, a little begrudgingly. Laurel rubbed comforting circles on her sister's back. "Apparently, he and Merlyn were saved by a guy in a green hood."

Sara had relaxed a little, but there was still a worried crease in her forehead. "He survived Lian Yu, he can survive anything," she said, quietly. Laurel thought that Sara was reassuring herself more than anything else.

Personally, Laurel thought that a deserted island probably didn't prepare someone for a kidnapping, but if the thought comforted Sara, then she was hardly going to say anything. Although, Sara probably had a better idea of deserted island life than Laurel.

"Can you tell him -" Sara paused and looked from her father to Laurel, to her mother. She pursed her lips. "Never mind."

"I'll tell him you said hello," said Quentin, gruffly. Sara nodded, her lips still pressed together. Quentin brushed his hand over her shoulder, then left.

"I'm sorry, Laurel," said Sara, staring at her hands where they were resting on her knees. "I know we hurt you." Laurel looked away, focusing on her breathing. She didn't want to talk about this. She wanted to keep this tentative truce she had with her sister going and pretend Oliver Queen had never existed. But Sara's face when Quentin had announced his destination made it obvious that Oliver was going to be a part of Sara's life, now and always.

"It's okay," Laurel forced out. She cleared her throat. "It was five years ago," she continued, succeeding at a lighter voice, "and he kept you alive." Not that she would have been in any danger if she had stayed off the Queen's Gambit. Laurel pushed the resentful edge to her thoughts down.

"I don't regret going. Ollie might have died if I hadn't been there," said Sara. "But I am so sorry I hurt you, Laurel."

Laurel glanced, startled, at her mother, wondering if she was right to have latched on to Sara's scant details of the island. Laurel would have thought it'd be easier to keep one person alive on a deserted island than two: more resources, more food. What dangers had Oliver faced that Sara had helped him escape from?

 _She's probably talking about the wild animals_ , Laurel reassured herself.

"Let's not talk about this," Laurel said. "A few more days before we deal with it, okay?"

Sara blinked and nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Sara's room was easy to find. Oliver had been to the Lance household before the island enough times to remember where Sara's room was, and the window was a give-away either way.

He hoped his mother wasn't planning on checking on him again tonight. His disappearing act would be difficult to explain after having been _kidnapped_ earlier, and hadn't that been a surprise? The fact that there were people out there invested in finding out if Oliver had the list wasn't that surprising, but they'd certainly moved fast.

It had been Detective Lance on the case, so Oliver knew he had to let Sara know he was fine, and talk about moving their plans up. Besides, he had to give her the katana that she'd been given by Tatsu so long ago, and –

Well, he just really missed Sara.

It had been wonderful seeing his family and Tommy again. But none of them understood him anymore, not that he was planning on letting them really see him. Sara understood.

Oliver lifted himself up and through the window silently. It was considerably easier to move quietly in Starling City than it had been on the island, he mused. There weren't the leaves or sticks to crack under his feet, just hard concrete.

"Ollie!" said Sara, face brightening. "Dad said you'd been kidnapped."

He shrugged. "They were overly-reliant on their guns and weren't expecting a fight. But their employer moved fast. We're going to have to be ready." He handed her the katana, which she placed under her bed.

"Did you get Tommy to take you past the warehouse?" she asked.

"It's still empty," he confirmed. "I'll start setting it up tomorrow."

"I'll see if I can get away," said Sara. "Mum's staying for the week, though, so I don't know how much I'll be able to get away before she goes."

Oliver frowned. "What do you mean?"

"My parents divorced," she said, ducking her head. "She's living in Central City now. They seem pretty amicable, but."

He stepped forward and pulled her towards him. She rested her chin on his shoulder and he placed his arms loosely around her waist. "I'm sorry," he said.

She shrugged. "Things were always going to be different," she said.

"My mother's remarried," Oliver offered. It was barely in the same ballpark as her parents' divorce, but he wanted to show her that he got it: how everything felt off-kilter, how a once-familiar home felt like a minefield with a new person's presence – or, in Sara's case, someone's absence.

"Have you got to go soon?" asked Sara.

"I was actually hoping I could stay here if you think nobody will notice," he said. "I couldn't sleep last night."

Sara smiled at him, lacing her arms around his neck, and leaned up to kiss him slowly. "I missed you, too."

* * *

Quentin had a habit of getting up in the early hours of the morning for a drink of water.

It was convenient, at the moment, because he could check on Sara as he went. Last night, she had been restless, constantly on the verge of waking, but hadn't noticed him.

Now, having filled his glass with water, he went to peer into her room and almost dropped his glass.

Quentin liked to think of himself as a good cop. Not one of his daughters' boyfriends had managed to sneak in while they were younger: he'd always caught them before they had been able to get very far. Queen had never even bothered to sneak in.

But he had tonight, because that was undoubtedly him next to Sara.

In contrast to last night, she was sleeping soundly. She and Queen were tangled together: her head on his chest, one arm slung across his body, a leg wedged between his. Queen had one arm around her. They looked almost as if they were expecting to be dragged apart in their sleep. It was ridiculous, of course: who would they be guarding against?

Whatever the case, Sara was sleeping soundly. Quentin didn't have the heart to kick Queen out.

He grabbed his phone from the side of his bed. Walter Steele had given Quentin his phone number in case any new information was found about Queen's kidnappers. Quentin would hate to be woken at this hour, but if Moira Queen was anything like him, the Queen mansion might be woken in a panic soon enough anyway. He dialled the number.

"Hello?" said the voice on the other end. Steele's voice was still thick with sleep. "This is Walter Steele," added Steele, as if he had only just remembered.

"It's Detective Lance," said Quentin, and although Steele didn't say anything, he could tell that there was an atmosphere shift on the other end of the line. "Your step-son is here. He snuck in to spend the night with Sara."

"I can send a car," offered Steele, but Quentin shook his head.

"Sara's sleeping better with him here," he said. "Send one in the morning."

"I will," promised Steele. "Thank you for letting us know, Detective." The line went dead. Quentin dropped it back on to the table and slid back into bed.

He made sure to wake up early the next morning. He had been planning on waking Sara and Queen up, but instead found Queen halfway out the window and Sara kissing him goodbye more enthusiastically than Quentin had ever wanted to see. They both startled as he pushed the door open, letting it bang loudly against Sara's wall.

"Uh," said Queen, from his position in the window. "There is a very good explanation for this, Detective."

"Get back in here, Queen," said Quentin, and Queen obediently slid back into the room. "I saw you two last night. Walter Steele is sending a car over to pick you up."

"We just slept," Sara assured him. "We couldn't sleep alone anymore."

"It won't happen again," said Queen, solemnly. Quentin trusted him about as far as he could throw him.

"Just get out here," grumbled Quentin. Sara took Queen's hand and led him out of her room. Quentin tried not to glare at Queen too obviously, but Queen had broken Laurel's heart, almost gotten Sara killed, and was now wasting Quentin's time with cock-and-bull stories about vigilantes in green hoods.

Dinah emerged from the guest room twenty minutes later, blinking at their guest. Quentin was just glad that Laurel was back in her own apartment. "Oliver," she greeted, unable to entirely hide her surprise.

"It's wonderful to see you again," said Queen, charming as ever, "Professor - " He broke off, glancing at Sara for support.

"Drake," supplied Dinah in place of her daughter. "Professor Drake."

"Sara said that you were living in Central City now," said Queen. "It's a good university out there, right?" Quentin tried to keep himself from huffing at Queen's knowledge of their personal lives. _So long as they were just talking_ , he comforted himself.

(The chances that Queen and Sara hadn't slept together at some point were effectively non-existent, but Quentin preferred to live in a happy delusion.)

Dinah seemed happy enough to fill Sara and Queen in on her new life in Central City, so Quentin was content to grumble into his cereal. He certainly didn't want to notice the casual way that Sara and Queen touched each other: Sara leaning over Queen to grab something on the table, Queen pushing some of Sara's hair off her face. He wanted to notice even less how practiced it all seemed, as if one knew when the other was going to move even before they did it. He knew, theoretically, that of course Sara and Queen had come off the island knowing each other intimately, but it was hard to watch.

There was a knock on the door, and Quentin jumped up to get it. Moira Queen had arrived, with a well-built man who had faint irritation written across his features. "Detective," said Moira, charming as her son could be. "I'm here to pick up my son."

"Mum!" said Queen from behind Quentin. "I'm sorry about last night. I know you must have worried." Queen and Sara had left the table, and were now standing immediately behind Quentin, holding hands.

"You were _kidnapped_ yesterday, Oliver," huffed Moira.

"I know, I'm sorry," said Queen. He looked to Sara. "I'll see you soon?" It should have been a statement, but it came out more as a hopeful question.

"Soon," agreed Sara, smiling. Queen started to lean in, but then glanced at Quentin sheepishly. Sara rolled her eyes and pulled him the rest of the way in, kissing him quickly and chastely. "Be good, Ollie."

Queen grinned. "I'll do my best." He turned to follow his mother out, who was beginning to inform him of his new bodyguard. Quentin gratefully shut the door behind them.

* * *

"So," said Moira, strapping her seatbelt around her. In the front seat, Diggle – his new bodyguard, _honestly_ – was pulling out of the Lance's driveway. "Sara Lance."

Oliver blinked at his mother. "What about Sara?"

"You crept out of the house the night of your kidnapping to see her," said his mother. "Forgive me if I'm a little curious about your relationship."

Oliver looked down at his hands. "She's the only reason I got through that island, Mum. I know that we started out in a bad place, but we're not – we're not like that anymore."

"You love her," observed Moira.

Oliver remembered kissing Sara on the Amazo, remembered her warm body in his arms on Lian Yu's cold, winter nights, remembered her smiling at him from across the fires they built to keep warm. "Yeah," he said, softly.

He had loved Laurel, once, but hadn't been able to deal with it: he'd gotten cold feet and destroyed that relationship as dramatically as he knew how. But he wasn't afraid of Sara. Oliver had seen Sara at the darkest moments of her life, and she had seen him at the darkest moments of his. They had fought so many demons together that it was hard to picture a life where she wasn't by his side.

Moira took his hand, smiling. "I'm glad."

Oliver cleared his throat and leaned back against the seat. "So, where are we going?" he asked.

" _I_ am going into the office. You're free to go where you like after that. Mr Diggle will take you," replied Moira, gesturing towards the man in question. Diggle nodded, but otherwise didn't react.

Oliver knew where he wanted to go, but it wasn't somewhere he could tell his mother or Diggle. He mapped out the city in his head, trying to work out a destination that would take him near the old warehouse. He hummed for a moment and announced, "Home, I guess."

Moira patted his hand, and Oliver really hoped that she wasn't going to be too pissed about him pulling another disappearing act.

* * *

Sara managed to sneak out a few hours after Oliver left, with her father at work and her mother in the shower. She left a note then walked out the front door, trying not to feel like a teenager again.

By the time she arrived, Oliver had finished the initial set-up. It was something they were going to have to keep working on, but the simple set-up – a work-out area, computer, and place to store their gear – was going to have to at the moment.

Oliver was on the salmon ladder, but when he spotted her, he dropped to the ground. His smile was wide and genuine, infectious.

"Thought you wouldn't be able to get away," he said, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

She smirked up at him. "I took inspiration from you walking out all the time," she said. "Was it hard to lose your bodyguard?"

Oliver shook his head. "Diggle expected an idiot rich kid."

"You _are_ an idiot rich kid," teased Sara, going to run her fingers over the computers. She placed her katana next to his bow.

Oliver scoffed. "I resent that. Pretty sure Slade beat that out of me years ago." Sara glanced up. Oliver didn't mentioned Slade that often; usually, like now, it was played off as a joke, but she could still tell that it hurt him. She took his hand and squeezed it.

"Laurel's going after someone on the list at the CRNI," she said. "Adam Hunt? He's screwed over a lot of people."

"I guess I'll pay him a visit, then," said Oliver. He looked hopeful as he asked, "Will you be able to come?"

Sara shook her head. "I doubt it." Oliver's face fell, so she leant up to kiss the disappointment off his face. Oliver's hands went to her waist, and then to her hair, and before Sara realised what was happening, her back was pressed up against the beam of the salmon ladder. Oliver's lips moved to her jaw, and she managed to gasp out, "I do have some time."

She felt Oliver smile against her neck. "Good."

* * *

It had been half a decade since Sara had been to a party, and it was obvious from her expression that she had no idea what to do now.

Laurel and Sara had been invited by Tommy – " _I mean, technically, it's Sara's party, too_ ," he'd pointed out – and Laurel still wasn't sure if she'd made the right decision in coming. Tommy's parties had been much less frequent in the years that Oliver had been missing, and her presence at one usually ended with her in bed with Tommy. _Not the greatest habit, that,_ she mused.

"Come on," she said to Sara, pitching her voice loud to be heard over the music. "We'll find Tommy and Oliver if we can." Laurel didn't particularly want to see Oliver, but it was his party, too. Besides, based off her father's story this morning about Oliver " _hanging half out the window, like I wouldn't even realise he'd been_ ", she was fairly certain that he was the main person Sara wanted to be seeing.

Tommy spotted them coming down the stairs, jogging up to meet them. "Glad you could make it," he said, and Laurel wondered if that really had been aimed more at her. "Oliver got mobbed a while back. You'll probably have to dig him out," he added, and that was definitely aimed at Sara.

Sara snorted. "I'm going to need a drink before I deal with that," she said, already making her way to the bar. Laurel shrugged and followed after her.

Oliver had, apparently, escaped the mob of well-wishers, because he appeared at Sara's side just as she reached the bar. Sara's expression cleared for the first time since they'd entered the building. Oliver said something that Laurel couldn't hear and leaned down to kiss Sara.

Laurel had known that Sara and Oliver were together. It was something that she could see in Sara's face whenever Oliver was mentioned. And she had no feelings for Oliver anymore: those had gone up in flames when she'd realised that Sara had been on the Gambit, too. But still, seeing them hurt.

"Are you okay?" Laurel jumped, turning to see Tommy. He had reappeared beside her, shoulder almost brushing hers.

"I will be," she replied. She took hold of his wrist and tugged it, saying, "Let's dance!" She had mostly wanted to get away from Oliver and Sara, but Tommy's smile was strangely infectious. Laurel couldn't help but grin back at him.

* * *

Sara could tell the moment Oliver spotted company, because his arm suddenly wrapped around her waist, hitching her close to him. She wasn't sure what he had spotted yet, but she burrowed closer into his side anyway, pressing as close as she could.

She spotted Oliver's body guard a moment later. Diggle brushed his eyes over them, and like every time she had seen him so far, he looked irritated at their very existence.

"Mr Queen, Miss Lance, I'm going to have to ask you to go back to the party," said Diggle, professional as ever.

"Sorry," said Oliver, grinning that oh-so-very fake pretty-boy smile at Diggle. "We just haven't had a lot of chances to be alone together, you know?" Sara giggled on cue.

"Be that as it may, I'm still going to need you to return to the party," said Diggle, unmoved. Oliver looked at her and shrugged, peeling himself off her. He went to try the door.

"It's locked," said Oliver, looking blankly back at Diggle. Sara barely repressed a snort. Diggle, looking exasperated, went to try it for himself, and Sara moved.

Diggle was on the floor a moment later. Oliver eyed her appreciatively.

"Where did you put the gear?" she asked. Oliver showed her the way, and minutes later, she was holding on to him as he took aim at the Hunt building.

"Ready, Canary?" he asked, looking down at her.

She took a deep breath. "Ready," she confirmed, and the arrow vanished into the night.

* * *

"God bless you, too," said Laurel into her phone. She set it down, staring out into nothingness. She had no idea what had happened last night, but somehow, Hunt's money was getting redistributed to his victims. "Huh," she said to nobody in particular.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and Laurel swivelled her chair around to see Sara. Sara was leaning against Laurel's desk, eyebrows raised. "I thought we were going for lunch."

Laurel's eyes grew wide, jumping to her feet. "Oh – yes! I'm sorry, Sara, I forgot with all the Hunt stuff." She rifled through her desk, looking for her purse.

"The Hunt stuff?" inquired Sara. There was an odd note to her voice, but Laurel was still too distracted to put a lot of thought into it.

Laurel looked up at her sister and lowered her voice. "All the people he's screwed over – the money's been reappearing in their bank accounts this morning."

Sara smiled. "Looks like Starling's got itself a guardian angel," she said. She frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "Wasn't Dad meant to be protecting Hunt from those vigilantes last night?"

"Apparently, they were calling each other the Arrow and the Canary," said Laurel, unearthing her purse at last. "So, there's this amazing burger place that's opened up after -" She broke off.

"After," Sara echoed. "I'm game." They stepped out on to the street, and Laurel looked over to her sister, who snatched her hand back down. Laurel looked around the street, but saw no one familiar.

"Were you waving at someone?" asked Laurel.

"No," said Sara, too quickly, her face innocent. Laurel narrowed her eyes at Sara, but Sara's expression didn't change. Her sister was still weird, Laurel reflected: at least that hadn't changed. Sara linked their arms as they started walking again. "So, you and Tommy looked very comfortable last night."

Laurel snorted. "You can hardly talk. You and Oliver disappeared for most of your own party." It was easier, now, to think of the two together. Laurel wasn't sure when it would stop hurting entirely, but they'd been _happy_ together last night, and Laurel was pretty sure Sara needed all the happy she could get.

"We just wanted some air," said Sara, primly. Laurel laughed, clear and bright.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said. She thought she saw a flicker of green above them, but she was pretty sure she was imagining it.

 **AN: You know when you're meant to be writing an essay but this one fic won't leave you alone? Well.**


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